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There are two kinds of people. One type takes life very lightly and tells themselves everything is nonsense; nothing matters. Sick, healthy, happy, sad, living, dying—it is all the same. So, it is simple: they just live their life as it is. Whether they die or live, they consider themselves healthy and happy. Another type of people, the second group, is this: they would like to get something out of this life. They do not want to waste it. There is a great difference between human life and the lives of other animals. This second group is very time- and goal-conscious. Time means limitation. Time means an end. Time means beginning and end. Once time is over, then it is over. The clock keeps turning, but time itself is a limited thing. Seen in this way, time is like a mechanism that has been given to us. We are bound by time. When one attains Mokṣa, liberation, it is said to be beyond time and space; it transcends them. In our case, we still have this time; nothing has been overcome yet. Time always flows and always brings setbacks. We are like a boat. The boat lies on the shore of the ocean and receives a blow from the waves every five seconds or so. The wave-beaten boat moves back and forth. So is our life. We are in this world, the world of Māyā, the world of disappointment, changeability, striving, and the blows of our destiny. The waves on this ocean are time, and this time is our destiny. Thus we are always here. Great people are those who are purposeful. To live consciously, reflecting on all our actions, whether good or bad. Often we fail despite our reflection, yet we still act. Perhaps our intellect says it would not be good, but the inner feeling says, go ahead, do it. There are many time-conscious people. Here comes a beautiful poem: The leaf has fallen from the branch, and the wind has carried it away; when will we meet again, now that we are separated by distance? A leaf falls from the tree. We see how long it takes—how many months—to grow a tree up to a beautiful leaf. It begins as a completely invisible, small bud. Then it becomes a visible bud. From the bud then breaks forth this leaf, a very delicate, young leaf. It grows slowly, slowly, becoming beautifully green and large, and remains for a while. And then, right there where its origin was, where the umbilical cord is connected to the mother and the child, this cord is cut. An embryo is always constantly connected by the umbilical cord. That was the very first origin of this embryo beginning to grow. And now separation has come. The leaf falls down. Destiny is there, immediately as the element of the wind, the farmer’s wind. Perhaps the leaf had the chance to stay a few days longer, but the fate of the wind came so strongly and blew it away. Legi, Pavan, Uday—a few leaves have fallen and the wind has come and carried them away. Now both the tree and the leaf say, bye bye. This separation will either lead to coming together again or not at all. So is life. Those who have come together, the gathered ones, will also disperse. What is created will be destroyed. No matter what in this world, everything. This is the reality of this world. A true, bitter reality is this: separation. Through death or through any other events. Whether it is husband, father, mother, children, siblings, friends, acquaintances, house, possessions, or whatever we have—there is separation. So it would have come, and one day it will go. Those who have walked may perhaps return again. Why perhaps? Because perhaps someone attains Mokṣa and does not return. So the wind plays a great role in this poem: Pavan. Second, there is another beautiful poem, a very nice one, about the weak and the strong. It says it is true that often the weak receive no support, and all the strong ones are supported. The poet proves through his poem what he means by saying the weak are destroyed—that is, oppressed—and the strong are supported. He says the stronger ones are always supported, and no one is an owner or a protector for the weak; all try to support the strong one. Here he gives an example: Pavan is the lord of the world; pavan means wind. The wind supports the fire, the spark, in growing large. But it blows out the flames of a lamp because the flame is weaker than a fire, a spark, a glowing ember. A small spark, you place it somewhere, and the wind comes—it grows stronger and stronger. But a flame is extinguished. So it is said that only God is hope and help for the weak. Even God sees everyone. Therefore, He says in our prayer that God has come from Nirguṇa, the formless, into a form to help all—not only humans, but all living beings. All are children of God. This is the second part of Pavan. There are many, many faces of Pavan. If we begin, today it will be an endless lecture. Just like a sailboat is driven by the wind, it moves in that direction. Then there is a very famous face, a very famous one, almost all of you know it, called the Hanuman Victory. That is the wind. The wind is the wind... As long as it is just air, it is okay. But when air becomes wind, then it is strong. So, Hawa and Pavan. Hawa is so light, a very gentle, beautiful breeze where the wind flows well. When one is hot in summer, very hot, then one comes and sits under a cherry tree, eats some beautiful cherries, and it is good, cool; the wind blows. How wonderful it is, the hot summer, and to enjoy the cool breeze. But when the storm grows strong, then we must be careful—horikon, strength. Each element has its own power, and God endows us with these special powers. So the forces within our body can also arise. Anger is such a powerful force that it destroys everything. It tears out all your roots, burns everything. Anger, hatred, envy, greed, jealousy—I don’t need to repeat those. Yesterday I did not repeat; that was boring. Some have said, you have nothing today. So much has been said. Building is beautiful, and from time to time such forces arise—one might say natural disasters or special events in nature—which are there only to teach us a lesson. We should learn something from this. Our life on this earth is not eternal; it is transient. Therefore, we should engage ourselves in reflecting on why I was born, who I am, and what my goal is. Think about it. Is that all you were born for, to produce children? No, that is not all. Is that all you are meant to have as a profession—earning money and doing this and that? No. What is the true purpose of human life? Kana, Pina, Bhogana, Paschubi, Paramshudana—eating, drinking, having children, building a house. Animals are also very intelligent. But what motivation does a person have? What is the human Dharma? What is my Dharma? To understand this and then observe what forces are at work within our body. We know that even our body is not under our control. Every evening, and when I get up in the morning, I step onto my bathroom scale. Scale or cradle? Scale. And I get annoyed and say, tonight I will not eat anything anymore. When evening comes and hunger arises, they say, well, today you have worked so much, so just eat; you are hungry, otherwise you will become weak. So we have nothing under control, and we should eat; no one should starve. Whenever one is hungry, one should eat, no matter what it is. I mean, whether you gain or lose weight, it doesn’t matter; what matters is how it is, not what it is. And of course, healthy food, vegetarian food. But what I want to say is that nothing ever follows our body’s command. If it were the case that I say my body should gain a kilo in five days, okay—it doesn’t take it. Or lose a kilo in five days—it does not work with command. So people, just as some do bodybuilding, make the effort, sweating for hours on end, and then every day observe how the muscles become firm and larger. They are supposed to give the command and then in the following days have bigger muscles. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work like that. Therefore, it is seen that even our body is not under our control; the body does not obey our commands. So everything you have—who follows you? Very soon your children will no longer follow you. Not even that, your own created child. Or very soon, your husband may not follow what you want to do, and your wife may not do and follow what you want to do, perhaps. Everything is Māyā. Time is playing with us; time is playing, and all of this ends. A sweet love ends in bitterness, pure bitterness. It is so. With life, one does not know how long. It is like this: there is a string on this table, and now a thread of life. You know it will suddenly come to an end. An hour ago, I received a call from America. A very kind person, healthy, 35 or 30 years old, completely healthy, happy, having just eaten, went up to his room. After five minutes or three, four minutes, his child or young daughter, who is ten or twelve years old, went upstairs and saw that he was lying on the floor, dead. Heart attack. So we do not know when this leaf will fall. This is the time. The given time is complete. There is no more discussion, no more arguments. That is fate. Unfortunately, there are no arguments, no discussions. That is how it is. Having said that, time passes. What you must accomplish tomorrow, better do it today. What you should accomplish today, do it right now. At this moment, the end of the world will occur. When will you then get things done? No more. Be conscious of time. Those who are conscious of time in life are winners. Whoever neglects time and says, today or tomorrow or something like that, will continue to receive disciplinary blows. This is what the Shankaracharya says in his work: How often do you want to be the boat that always gets beaten by the waves on the shore of the ocean? Or how long do you want to be the pebble that begins to roll down from the mountain, at different times, with different situations, with wind and with storm and with the animals and then with water and so on, until you come and land deep in the stomach, in the belly, into the ocean? And how long will you stay there? Changes will come, and so will the volcano. It will throw you out again. So everything that has been absorbed, everything that is there, has a limit. Mokṣa is the Ātmajñāna, the individual self of the souls, liberated from the chain of Śikṣā, Karma—action and reaction. From the chain of karma, the individual should liberate. Happiness and misfortune, joy and love—both are friends running in parallel. You are in between; you are the water in the river. One bank is joy and the other bank is sorrow, and you must have contact with both, left and right. So, reflect in your life on what is reality. What are we fighting for? Why are we fighting? Those who fought for this entire land, no one knows where they are. The property is still there. Many, many people have died. There were many wars; many died painfully, full of suffering, misery. It was a different kind of weapon. They beat people with sticks, like animals, struck them with knives as they slowly, slowly died. Don’t forget that. Faces reveal everything to us. We read about how cruelly people were killed. And yet, people have not learned how to simply be. A saint once said, what are you arguing for? Why do you fight? Nothing is yours. You belong to no one, and no one belongs to you. Be thyself and you are thyself. There is nothing. There is no second one there. There is no one who will sit beside you and weep, and no one who will walk with you. Everything is just a moment in time. These are merely small details in the movement of time. That is all. Come to the gardens of breath. Come to yourself. Free yourself and try to convey that to others. Do not fight, do not argue. Be positive, be loving. Dear all living beings. How beautiful they are. How beautiful is your house cat. She is so sweet. Those who have a house cat—it waits behind the door when you come in, and she meows and runs behind me with her tail held high. She holds her tail beautifully high and walks behind like a princess, showing that you are at home. Or the dog as well, who jumps up and down. As soon as you sit there, the cat comes and rubs its head against your calves, wanting you to pet it, and then she does this, how do you say, purring. How dear she is. All the animals, they are so incredibly joyful. You have bred the hares, lamented hares. When you come with a handful of green grass or carrots, they are so happy; they come and with their nose, they smell, they speak to you a little. And if you catch those from here, take the knives and cut them... These beautiful, beautiful blue, pink eyes—the pink eyes of the hares, they are so dear. They see you and say, Master, my Lord, whether woman or man, I am yours; you have fed me every day, and what are you doing now? Please do not—and suddenly they cut off the head. There is no love, there is no Mem, there is no human Dharma. Human Dharma, Mano Dharma, is different from what we, as humans, do with the mind. Human beings are vegetarian creatures, and the other animals are also vegetarians, except for the carnivores like big cats and such. But we see what Mahāprabhujī said in his teaching: nothing goes against nature, otherwise nature will exact its reverence. So the cows and many of these animals are vegetarians and have been given animal feed. Now we will see what kind of disaster is coming into this, and so it has also entered into human beings. Nevertheless, people do not learn all of this. A cow, a beautiful living being, she replaces our mother. It gives such wonderful nectar, milk. This is the binder of life. She gives so much milk. We make butter, yogurt, all kinds of dairy products, cheese, and so on. And it returns manure for the fields. How dear she is, how grateful she is to you. Oh human, be grateful to this being. But humans are so full of suffering. Or let us take an example, a horse. Oh, how dear they are, how beautiful they are, how faithful they are. They are so gentle, yet on a horse it is beautiful. Then I once saw how in Austria the people who breed horses transport them to Italy, and they showed, perhaps also at the border, on the train, how many horses are transported every day or every week. They are so beautiful, nice, young, like a baby. The man comes closer, and those who believe he will give them something come closer. And he comes closer with a gun, with a nail or something like that—not even bullets, because bullets cost more; this is a drumstick feather. And he comes and snap, cuts, and he falls down. One believes he is dead. He is not dead yet; he is suffering. You can see his entire feet, how tense he is. How cruel we humans are. Then we ask, my God, why do these catastrophes come everywhere? It has its purpose. Animals may perhaps understand the Nothingness, but we understand. I often say to myself, I believe we are mistaken. We believe that animals know nothing and do not have faith, but animals know very well, very, very well. But we even make the animals stupid; we feed them, we force them into such things, and now they are completely confused. So human thinking goes: why do I do this, for what purpose, where is the necessity, what is love? Because we say, God is love and love is God. Where is your love, my friend, where? Today, you also say you are stroking your cat and you are stroking your husband. And one day, when he is asleep, you take the knife and cut him, because outside it is too cold and there is a lot of snow, and you cannot go shopping. So your husband has strong muscles, and you want to kill him and cook and eat his muscles. Time can come. One who can kill an animal is not trusted; such a person can also kill a human being. That’s it. Because in the hands lies death. Therefore, people are always, as it has been preached, frightened or have fear, frightened by death. When you see the dead body, you say, oh my God. But the problem is that we see it only in humans, not in animals. This has been preached: when there is a death, people say, oh my God, and they become so frightened that in society one does not do such things, that no one kills anything. But if it continues like this in the world, I believe soon there will be markets where human flesh is sold. Incredible things are now allowed in this world. When I was younger, smaller, 15 years old—not so long ago, 20 years—I would never have believed in my life that such things could be allowed by the authorities, whether for televisions, or buildings, or photographs, or things. I could not imagine that such things would be permitted by the law. And where is the law today? Gone. We cannot change the entire law, but at least we can do something for ourselves. This is it. Therefore, now is the time to protect yourself, if possible. One cannot change oneself, but one tries to protect oneself in situations. May many beings and many people in this world become spiritual and attain Self-realization. Through this, society becomes better in this world. So it is. It is a very difficult time, so think for yourself, think of yourself and strive. Know thyself; it’s the only way to come out. Then, you can also help others. We can only help others through a means, and this means is knowledge. With money, with food, with this and that—all kinds of help are only temporary. It is only temporary help when one assists someone with money, with food, with a dumpling, or with something. This is all temporary and will be forgotten very quickly. The best help is Knowledge. Knowledge can awaken anyone. There is a story. In a room, some people are sleeping, and one is awake, who is seated, who does not sleep. Now comes a dangerous cobra, a biting cobra. Everyone is sleeping deeply, jogging away from it, and the cobra can bite anyone. But the one who is awake, who is seated, can awaken everyone immediately: “Wake up, the cobra is here.” So, 100 sleep, 99 sleep; one is awake, that one can awaken the others. But if one oneself is also asleep, then there is no chance. Awake means the knower who is inwardly awake, purposeful, realized, and able to inspire others. I always say, you can only give someone inspiration, give motivation, but the doing must be done by oneself. Everyone must do it for themselves. Therefore, all the great saints—and what great saints they are, I say once again—are those who contemplate the meaning of life and what the goal of life is. That can be anyone. Any mother can be, who perhaps has ten children or twelve children, or 15. How many have you had, Maria Theresia? 16? In how many years? You had a patient youth; you were in nursing. But she was a hero; she was wise; she did many good things. That is why last year was the Sissi. The Sissi was celebrated on a grand scale—the one who came later. So everyone can be like this; regardless, they can lead a normal life. But do something in your life. Of course, she also did thousands of foolish things, certainly, as we do as well. But do something in your life that we have well, and can also give to others. But Self Gyan, that is it: to awaken inwardly, to awaken.